Story of My Life
by Gift of the Dragons
Summary: 'Everything seemed to slow down as the bullet flew forward. He felt it pierce his flesh, entering the soft tissues, carving the muscles like a blade.' One-shot; rated for gun usage and a short graphic scene. I do not own BF5.


Chapter 1

Vert lay staring up at the ceiling. Sleep wasn't coming easy tonight, just as it was every other year on this day. And just like every other year, he would have that nightmare. He would relive that memory, be forced to watch it again. And again, and again. It was a never ending cycle of madness. Vert rolled over and closed his eyes. But it was a cycle he couldn't escape.

Vert sat on the couch, poring over one of his father's old driver manuals, reading a passage that explained how to take apart the engine in his mother's truck. When his father disappeared last year, his Camaro disappeared with him. Sure, the sheriff thought his father ran out on his wife and ten year old son, but Natasha hadn't given up hope.

His mother was in the kitchen talking to a co-worker, asking if she could take a shift for her next week. His mother had appointment with the doctor that couldn't be missed.

"Yes, Camille," Natasha said. "It's for my medication. Yes, I will make it up to you, but only if you cover for me. I don't blind deals; I will check with the others, if you try to skip out on me. Bye then." The phone clicked as it was placed on the receiver.

Natasha was not a weak woman, no sir. Vert could see that at ten, and he loved his mother even more for it. That she was capable of getting on without her husband, despite the sadness that accompanied his loss. Of course Vert missed him as well, but he never connected with his father. Vert laid the manual aside and climbed onto the back of the couch. There was a beep from the microwave as his mother opened it, then a low drone as it heated up.

Vert glanced at the manual next to him. Most people thought his father was dead, including his mother's superior. Vert didn't know his name, but he didn't like him. He had a stale smell around him like stagnant water, a slight potbelly, a balding head of hair and thick full beard. He was nearly everything opposite of his father, and tried to flirt with his mother on several occasions. Vert didn't trust him, and felt uneasy now. Very uneasy.

The microwave beeped again, signaling that it was done. With another beep and a click, Natasha was in the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate and a smile. Vert grinned and accepted a mug from his mother. She sat on the couch next to Vert, drinking her hot chocolate. Vert picked up the manual and was going to show his mother a picture of his mother's engine when someone knocked on the door.

Vert looked at his mother, confused. She had an uneasy look on her face, which made Vert's foreboding feeling grow worse. Natasha placed her mug down, and Vert did the same. Together, they walked to the door, Vert a step behind his mother. Natasha opened the door, with a usual 'Hello.' There was a loud noise like a firecracker, and Natasha fell backwards. Vert skipped back and then forwards as his mother fell, barely catching her shoulders.

"Mom?" Vert looked down at his mom; her face was red and pale at the same time. A bruise stood out in the middle of her forehead, blackish in color. He was too young at the time to understand that it was not a bruise, not at all.

He looked up at the visitor. His mother's superior held a gun, wispy gray smoke slithering out of the barrel and towards the ceiling like the cigarette smoke from the smoking areas at the hospital Natasha worked at. He looked uneasy, and when he held up the gun, his hand trembled slightly. Everything seemed to slow down as the bullet flew forward. He felt it pierce his flesh, entering the soft tissues, carving the muscles like a blade. The force knocked Vert back and he hit the floor.

The man let out a strangled cry and ran outside. Each step as he ran made a thumping noise, like a base drum being hit. Vert forced himself up, coughing as he felt the bullet in his throat. He didn't dare touch it, for fear of making the situation worse. The bullet was stuck, never actually have made past the first layers. Blood bubbled around it and slipped down onto the floor as Vert made his way over to his mother.

"Mom?" Vert touched his mother's forehead; it was cold, and the blood had stopped running so forcefully. He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat, coughing forcefully as the bullet moved with the muscles it had lodged itself in. The coughing led to more coughing, leaving Vert unable to breathe. Everything became fuzzy at the edges, losing definition. It was like watching something in an old camera, fading to black, until Vert passed out in a puddle of blood.

Author's Note: This is based off a dream I had, the same day I watched the episode where Vert was reunited with his father. I finally put it down onto paper– er, well, Microsoft Word. Close enough. This is my own take on what may have happened to his mother, as she has not been mentioned throughout the series. Well, thank you, and I know there have been too many stories like this, but I couldn't resist.

Lastly; the bullet in Vert's throat is very unlikely. Impossible, considering that the gun in question was a Magnum, and the distance between the gun and Vert had been no more than six feet. For those of you who may flame, I'll put it down as a gun malfunction. Happy? All right, let's get this show on the road….


End file.
